Excerpted and introduced by G.E. Rule from "Personal
Memoirs of U.S. Grant, Volume 1", by Ulysses S. Grant, 1885

Gen. U.S. Grant (later the 18th President of the United States
from 1869-1877), along with Gen. W.T. Sherman, is usually considered one of the
two greatest Union heroes of the war. His wife, Julia Dent Grant, was the
daughter of a prominent St. Louis slaveholding family. Grant’s well-known
failures in business prior to the war can be partly attributed to the odd midway
position he held between Secessionists and Unionists in the decade before the
war. The Unionists did not fully trust him because of his in-laws, and the
Secessionists could not trust him because he was known to be a Union man.

"Grant in Missouri" covers the period from late 1860
thru 1861. It describes Grant’s experiences in St. Louis at the time of the
Camp Jackson affair, and his campaigning in Missouri thru the Battle of Belmont,
after which his scene of operations moved to Tennessee. It also describes how a
St. Louis Minute Man, Major Barrett, attempted to abuse Grant’s hospitality by
using information gained socially one day to capture Grant the next. It would be
interesting to speculate how events might have been different if he had
succeeded.

The complete electronic text of both volumes of Grant’s memoirs is
available for free download at Project Gutenburg.

GENERAL FREMONT IN COMMAND—MOVEMENT AGAINST BELMONT—BATTLE
OF BELMONT—A NARROW ESCAPE—AFTER THE BATTLE.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE COMING CRISIS

* * *

The winter of 1860-1 will be remembered by middle-aged people of to-day as
one of great excitement. South Carolina promptly seceded after the result of the
Presidential election was known. Other Southern States proposed to follow. In
some of them the Union sentiment was so strong that it had to be suppressed by
force. Maryland, Delaware, Kentucky and Missouri, all Slave States, failed to
pass ordinances of secession; but they were all represented in the so-called
congress of the so-called Confederate States. The Governor and
Lieutenant-Governor of Missouri, in 1861, Jackson and Reynolds, were both
supporters of the rebellion and took refuge with the enemy. The governor soon
died, and the lieutenant-governor assumed his office; issued proclamations as
governor of the State; was recognized as such by the Confederate Government, and
continued his pretensions until the collapse of the rebellion. The South claimed
the sovereignty of States, but claimed the right to coerce into their
confederation such States as they wanted, that is, all the States where slavery
existed. They did not seem to think this course inconsistent. The fact is, the
Southern slave-owners believed that, in some way, the ownership of slaves
conferred a sort of patent of nobility—a right to govern independent of the
interest or wishes of those who did not hold such property. They convinced
themselves, first, of the divine origin of the institution and, next, that that
particular institution was not safe in the hands of any body of legislators but
themselves.

Meanwhile the Administration of President Buchanan looked helplessly on and
proclaimed that the general government had no power to interfere; that the
Nation had no power to save its own life. Mr. Buchanan had in his cabinet two
members at least, who were as earnest—to use a mild term—in the cause of
secession as Mr. Davis or any Southern statesman. One of them, Floyd, the
Secretary of War, scattered the army so that much of it could be captured when
hostilities should commence, and distributed the cannon and small arms from
Northern arsenals throughout the South so as to be on hand when treason wanted
them. The navy was scattered in like manner. The President did not prevent his
cabinet preparing for war upon their government, either by destroying its
resources or storing them in the South until a de facto government was
established with Jefferson Davis as its President, and Montgomery, Alabama, as
the Capital. The secessionists had then to leave the cabinet. In their own
estimation, they were aliens in the country which had given them birth. Loyal
men were put into their places. Treason in the executive branch of the
government was estopped. But the harm had already been done. The stable door was
locked after the horse had been stolen.

During all of the trying winter of 1860-1, when the Southerners were so
defiant that they would not allow within their borders the expression of a
sentiment hostile to their views, it was a brave man indeed who could stand up
and proclaim his loyalty to the Union. On the other hand men at the North—prominent
men—proclaimed that the government had no power to coerce the South into
submission to the laws of the land; that if the North undertook to raise armies
to go south, these armies would have to march over the dead bodies of the
speakers. A portion of the press of the North was constantly proclaiming similar
views. When the time arrived for the President-elect to go to the capital of the
Nation to be sworn into office, it was deemed unsafe for him to travel, not only
as a President-elect, but as any private citizen should be allowed to do.
Instead of going in a special car, receiving the good wishes of his constituents
at all the stations along the road, he was obliged to stop on the way and to be
smuggled into the capital. He disappeared from public view on his journey, and
the next the country knew, his arrival was announced at the capital. There is
little doubt that he would have been assassinated if he had attempted to travel
openly throughout his journey.

CHAPTER XVII.

OUTBREAK OF THE REBELLION—PRESIDING AT
A UNION MEETING—MUSTERING OFFICER OF STATE TROOPS—LYON AT CAMP JACKSON—SERVICES
TENDERED TO THE GOVERNMENT.

The 4th of March, 1861, came, and Abraham Lincoln was sworn to
maintain the Union against all its enemies. The secession of one State after
another followed, until eleven had gone out. On the 11th of April
Fort Sumter, a National fort in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina, was
fired upon by the Southerners and a few days after was captured. The
Confederates proclaimed themselves aliens, and thereby debarred themselves of
all right to claim protection under the Constitution of the United States. We
did not admit the fact that they were aliens, but all the same, they debarred
themselves of the right to expect better treatment than people of any other
foreign state who make war upon an independent nation. Upon the firing on Sumter
President Lincoln issued his first call for troops and soon after a proclamation
convening Congress in extra session. The call was for 75,000 volunteers for
ninety days’ service. If the shot fired at Fort Sumter "was heard around
the world," the call of the President for 75,000 men was heard throughout
the Northern States. There was not a state in the North of a million of
inhabitants that would not have furnished the entire number faster than arms
could have been supplied to them, if it had been necessary.

As soon as the news of the call for volunteers reached Galena, posters were
stuck up calling for a meeting of the citizens at the courthouse in the evening.
Business ceased entirely; all was excitement; for a time there were no party
distinctions; all were Union men, determined to avenge the insult to the
national flag. In the evening the courthouse was packed. Although a comparative
stranger I was called upon to preside; the sole reason, possibly, was that I had
been in the army and had seen service. With much embarrassment and some
prompting I made out to announce the object of the meeting. Speeches were in
order, but it is doubtful whether it would have been safe just then to make
other than patriotic ones. There was probably no one in the house, however, who
felt like making any other. The two principal speeches were by B. B. Howard, the
post-master and a Breckinridge Democrat at the November election the fall
before, and John A. Rawlins, an elector on the Douglas ticket. E. B. Washburne,
with whom I was not acquainted at that time, came in after the meeting had been
organized, and expressed, I understood afterwards, a little surprise that Galena
could not furnish a presiding officer for such an occasion without taking a
stranger. He came forward and was introduced, and made a speech appealing to the
patriotism of the meeting.

After the speaking was over volunteers were called for to form a company. The
quota of Illinois had been fixed at six regiments; and it was supposed that one
company would be as much as would be accepted from Galena. The company was
raised and the officers and non-commissioned officers elected before the meeting
adjourned. I declined the captaincy before the balloting, but announced that I
would aid the company in every way I could and would be found in the service in
some position if there should be a war. I never went into our leather store
after that meeting, to put up a package or do other business.

The ladies of Galena were quite as patriotic as the men. They could not
enlist, but they conceived the idea of sending their first company to the field
uniformed. They came to me to get a description of the United States uniform for
infantry; subscribed and bought the material; procured tailors to cut out the
garments, and the ladies made them up. In a few days the company was in uniform
and ready to report at the State capital for assignment. The men all turned out
the morning after their enlistment, and I took charge, divided them into squads
and superintended their drill. When they were ready to go to Springfield I went
with them and remained there until they were assigned to a regiment.

There were so many more volunteers than had been called for that the question
whom to accept was quite embarrassing to the governor, Richard Yates. The
legislature was in session at the time, however, and came to his relief. A law
was enacted authorizing the governor to accept the services of ten additional
regiments, one from each congressional district, for one month, to be paid by
the State, but pledged to go into the service of the United States if there
should be a further call during their term. Even with this relief the governor
was still very much embarrassed. Before the war was over he was like the
President when he was taken with the varioloid: "at last he had something
he could give to all who wanted it."

In time the Galena company was mustered into the United States service,
forming a part of the 11th Illinois volunteer infantry. My duties, I
thought, had ended at Springfield, and I was prepared to start home by the
evening train, leaving at nine o’clock. Up to that time I do not think I had
been introduced to Governor Yates, or had ever spoken to him. I knew him by
sight, however, because he was living at the same hotel and I often saw him at
table. The evening I was to quit the capital I left the supper room before the
governor and was standing at the front door when he came out. He spoke to me,
calling me by my old army title "Captain," and said he understood that
I was about leaving the city. I answered that I was. He said he would be glad if
I would remain over-night and call at the Executive office the next morning. I
complied with his request, and was asked to go into the Adjutant-General’s
office and render such assistance as I could, the governor saying that my army
experience would be of great service there. I accepted the proposition.

My old army experience I found indeed of very great service. I was no clerk,
nor had I any capacity to become one. The only place I ever found in my life to
put a paper so as to find it again was either a side coat-pocket or the hands of
a clerk or secretary more careful than myself. But I had been quartermaster,
commissary and adjutant in the field. The army forms were familiar to me and I
could direct how they should be made out. There was a clerk in the office of the
Adjutant-General who supplied my deficiencies. The ease with which the State of
Illinois settled its accounts with the government at the close of the war is
evidence of the efficiency of Mr. Loomis as an accountant on a large scale. He
remained in the office until that time.

As I have stated, the legislature authorized the governor to accept the
services of ten additional regiments. I had charge of mustering these regiments
into the State service. They were assembled at the most convenient railroad
centres in their respective congressional districts. I detailed officers to
muster in a portion of them, but mustered three in the southern part of the
State myself. One of these was to assemble at Belleville, some eighteen miles
south-east of St. Louis. When I got there I found that only one or two companies
had arrived. There was no probability of the regiment coming together under five
days. This gave me a few idle days which I concluded to spend in St. Louis.

There was a considerable force of State militia at Camp Jackson, on the
outskirts of St. Louis, at the time. There is but little doubt that it was the
design of Governor Claiborne Jackson to have these troops ready to seize the
United States arsenal and the city of St. Louis. Why they did not do so I do not
know. There was but a small garrison, two companies I think, under Captain N.
Lyon at the arsenal, and but for the timely services of the Hon. F. P. Blair, I
have little doubt that St. Louis would have gone into rebel hands, and with it
the arsenal with all its arms and ammunition.

Blair was a leader among the Union men of St. Louis in 1861. There was no
State government in Missouri at the time that would sanction the raising of
troops or commissioned officers to protect United States property, but Blair had
probably procured some form of authority from the President to raise troops in
Missouri and to muster them into the service of the United States. At all
events, he did raise a regiment and took command himself as Colonel. With this
force he reported to Captain Lyon and placed himself and regiment under his
orders. It was whispered that Lyon thus reinforced intended to break up Camp
Jackson and capture the militia. I went down to the arsenal in the morning to
see the troops start out. I had known Lyon for two years at West Point and in
the old army afterwards. Blair I knew very well by sight. I had heard him speak
in the canvass of 1858, possibly several times, but I had never spoken to him.
As the troops marched out of the enclosure around the arsenal, Blair was on his
horse outside forming them into line preparatory to their march. I introduced
myself to him and had a few moments’ conversation and expressed my sympathy
with his purpose. This was my first personal acquaintance with the Honorable—afterwards
Major-General F. P. Blair. Camp Jackson surrendered without a fight and the
garrison was marched down to the arsenal as prisoners of war.

Up to this time the enemies of the government in St. Louis had been bold and
defiant, while Union men were quiet but determined. The enemies had their
head-quarters in a central and public position on Pine Street, near Fifth—from
which the rebel flag was flaunted boldly. The Union men had a place of meeting
somewhere in the city, I did not know where, and I doubt whether they dared to
enrage the enemies of the government by placing the national flag outside their
head-quarters. As soon as the news of the capture of Camp Jackson reached the
city the condition of affairs was changed. Union men became rampant, aggressive,
and, if you will, intolerant. They proclaimed their sentiments boldly, and were
impatient at anything like disrespect for the Union. The secessionists became
quiet but were filled with suppressed rage. They had been playing the bully. The
Union men ordered the rebel flag taken down from the building on Pine Street.
The command was given in tones of authority and it was taken down, never to be
raised again in St. Louis.

I witnessed the scene. I had heard of the surrender of the camp and that the
garrison was on its way to the arsenal. I had seen the troops start out in the
morning and had wished them success. I now determined to go to the arsenal and
await their arrival and congratulate them. I stepped on a car standing at the
corner of 4th and Pine streets, and saw a crowd of people standing
quietly in front of the head-quarters, who were there for the purpose of hauling
down the flag. There were squads of other people at intervals down the street.
They too were quiet but filled with suppressed rage, and muttered their
resentment at the insult to, what they called, "their" flag. Before
the car I was in had started, a dapper little fellow—he would be called a dude
at this day—stepped in. He was in a great state of excitement and used
adjectives freely to express his contempt for the Union and for those who had
just perpetrated such an outrage upon the rights of a free people. There was
only one other passenger in the car besides myself when this young man entered.
He evidently expected to find nothing but sympathy when he got away from the
"mud sills" engaged in compelling a "free people" to pull
down a flag they adored. He turned to me saying: "Things have come to a
---- pretty pass when a free people can’t choose their own flag. Where I came
from if a man dares to say a word in favor of the Union we hang him to a limb of
the first tree we come to." I replied that "after all we were not so
intolerant in St. Louis as we might be; I had not seen a single rebel hung yet,
nor heard of one; there were plenty of them who ought to be, however." The
young man subsided. He was so crestfallen that I believe if I had ordered him to
leave the car he would have gone quietly out, saying to himself: "More
Yankee oppression."

By nightfall the late defenders of Camp Jackson were all within the walls of
the St. Louis arsenal, prisoners of war. The next day I left St. Louis for
Mattoon, Illinois, where I was to muster in the regiment from that congressional
district. This was the 21st Illinois infantry, the regiment of which
I subsequently became colonel. I mustered one regiment afterwards, when my
services for the State were about closed.

Brigadier-General John Pope was stationed at Springfield, as United States
mustering officer, all the time I was in the State service. He was a native of
Illinois and well acquainted with most of the prominent men in the State. I was
a carpet-bagger and knew but few of them. While I was on duty at Springfield the
senators, representatives in Congress, ax-governors and the State legislators
were nearly all at the State capital. The only acquaintance I made among them
was with the governor, whom I was serving, and, by chance, with Senator S. A.
Douglas. The only members of Congress I knew were Washburne and Philip Foulk.
With the former, though he represented my district and we were citizens of the
same town, I only became acquainted at the meeting when the first company of
Galena volunteers was raised. Foulk I had known in St. Louis when I was a
citizen of that city. I had been three years at West Point with Pope and had
served with him a short time during the Mexican war, under General Taylor. I saw
a good deal of him during my service with the State. On one occasion he said to
me that I ought to go into the United States service. I told him I intended to
do so if there was a war. He spoke of his acquaintance with the public men of
the State, and said he could get them to recommend me for a position and that he
would do all he could for me. I declined to receive endorsement for permission
to fight for my country.

Going home for a day or two soon after this conversation with General Pope, I
wrote from Galena the following letter to the Adjutant-General of the Army.

GALENA,
ILLINOIS,

May 24, 1861.

COL. L. THOMAS

Adjt. Gen. U. S. A.,

Washington, D. C.

SIR:--Having served for fifteen years in the regular army, including four
years at West Point, and feeling it the duty of every one who has been educated
at the Government expense to offer their services for the support of that
Government, I have the honor, very respectfully, to tender my services, until
the close of the war, in such capacity as may be offered. I would say, in view
of my present age and length of service, I feel myself competent to command a
regiment, if the President, in his judgment, should see fit to intrust one to
me.

Since the first call of the President I have been serving on the staff of the
Governor of this State, rendering such aid as I could in the organization of our
State militia, and am still engaged in that capacity. A letter addressed to me
at Springfield, Illinois, will reach me.

I am very respectfully,

Your obt. svt.,

U. S. GRANT.

This letter failed to elicit an answer from the Adjutant-General of the Army.
I presume it was hardly read by him, and certainly it could not have been
submitted to higher authority. Subsequent to the war General Badeau having heard
of this letter applied to the War Department for a copy of it. The letter could
not be found and no one recollected ever having seen it. I took no copy when it
was written. Long after the application of General Badeau, General Townsend, who
had become Adjutant-General of the Army, while packing up papers preparatory to
the removal of his office, found this letter in some out-of-the-way place. It
had not been destroyed, but it had not been regularly filed away.

I felt some hesitation in suggesting rank as high as the colonelcy of a
regiment, feeling somewhat doubtful whether I would be equal to the position.
But I had seen nearly every colonel who had been mustered in from the State of
Illinois, and some from Indiana, and felt that if they could command a regiment
properly, and with credit, I could also.

Having but little to do after the muster of the last of the regiments
authorized by the State legislature, I asked and obtained of the governor leave
of absence for a week to visit my parents in Covington, Kentucky, immediately
opposite Cincinnati. General McClellan had been made a major-general and had his
headquarters at Cincinnati. In reality I wanted to see him. I had known him
slightly at West Point, where we served one year together, and in the Mexican
war. I was in hopes that when he saw me he would offer me a position on his
staff. I called on two successive days at his office but failed to see him on
either occasion, and returned to Springfield.

CHAPTER XVIII.

APPOINTED COLONEL OF THE 21ST
ILLINOIS—PERSONNEL OF THE REGIMENT—GENERAL LOGAN—MARCH TO MISSOURI—MOVEMENT
AGAINST HARRIS AT FLORIDA, MO.—GENERAL POPE IN COMMAND—STATIONED AT MEXICO,
MO.

While I was absent from the State capital on this occasion the President’s
second call for troops was issued. This time it was for 300,000 men, for three
years or the war. This brought into the United States service all the regiments
then in the State service. These had elected their officers from highest to
lowest and were accepted with their organizations as they were, except in two
instances. A Chicago regiment, the 19th infantry, had elected a very
young man to the colonelcy. When it came to taking the field the regiment asked
to have another appointed colonel and the one they had previously chosen made
lieutenant-colonel. The 21st regiment of infantry, mustered in by me
at Mattoon, refused to go into the service with the colonel of their selection
in any position. While I was still absent Governor Yates appointed me colonel of
this latter regiment. A few days after I was in charge of it and in camp on the
fair grounds near Springfield.

My regiment was composed in large part of young men of as good social
position as any in their section of the State. It embraced the sons of farmers,
lawyers, physicians, politicians, merchants, bankers and ministers, and some men
of maturer years who had filled such positions themselves. There were also men
in it who could be led astray; and the colonel, elected by the votes of the
regiment, had proved to be fully capable of developing all there was in his men
of recklessness. It was said that he even went so far at times as to take the
guard from their posts and go with them to the village near by and make a night
of it. When there came a prospect of battle the regiment wanted to have some one
else to lead them. I found it very hard work for a few days to bring all the men
into anything like subordination; but the great majority favored discipline, and
by the application of a little regular army punishment all were reduced to as
good discipline as one could ask.

The ten regiments which had volunteered in the State service for thirty days,
it will be remembered, had done so with a pledge to go into the National service
if called upon within that time. When they volunteered the government had only
called for ninety days’ enlistments. Men were called now for three years or
the war. They felt that this change of period released them from the obligation
of re-volunteering. When I was appointed colonel, the 21st regiment
was still in the State service. About the time they were to be mustered into the
United States service, such of them as would go, two members of Congress from
the State, McClernand and Logan, appeared at the capital and I was introduced to
them. I had never seen either of them before, but I had read a great deal about
them, and particularly about Logan, in the newspapers. Both were democratic
members of Congress, and Logan had been elected from the southern district of
the State, where he had a majority of eighteen thousand over his Republican
competitor. His district had been settled originally by people from the Southern
States, and at the breaking out of secession they sympathized with the South. At
the first outbreak of war some of them joined the Southern army; many others
were preparing to do so; others rode over the country at night denouncing the
Union, and made it as necessary to guard railroad bridges over which National
troops had to pass in southern Illinois, as it was in Kentucky or any of the
border slave states. Logan’s popularity in this district was unbounded. He
knew almost enough of the people in it by their Christian names, to form an
ordinary congressional district. As he went in politics, so his district was
sure to go. The Republican papers had been demanding that he should announce
where he stood on the questions which at that time engrossed the whole of public
thought. Some were very bitter in their denunciations of his silence. Logan was
not a man to be coerced into an utterance by threats. He did, however, come out
in a speech before the adjournment of the special session of Congress which was
convened by the President soon after his inauguration, and announced his undying
loyalty and devotion to the Union. But I had not happened to see that speech, so
that when I first met Logan my impressions were those formed from reading
denunciations of him. McClernand, on the other hand, had early taken strong
grounds for the maintenance of the Union and had been praised accordingly by the
Republican papers. The gentlemen who presented these two members of Congress
asked me if I would have any objections to their addressing my regiment. I
hesitated a little before answering. It was but a few days before the time set
for mustering into the United States service such of the men as were willing to
volunteer for three years or the war. I had some doubt as to the effect a speech
from Logan might have; but as he was with McClernand, whose sentiments on the
all-absorbing questions of the day were well known, I gave my consent.
McClernand spoke first; and Logan followed in a speech which he has hardly
equaled since for force and eloquence. It breathed a loyalty and devotion to the
Union which inspired my men to such a point that they would have volunteered to
remain in the army as long as an enemy of the country continued to bear arms
against it. They entered the United States service almost to a man.

General Logan went to his part of the State and gave his attention to raising
troops. The very men who at first made it necessary to guard the roads in
southern Illinois became the defenders of the Union. Logan entered the service
himself as colonel of a regiment and rapidly rose to the rank of major-general.
His district, which had promised at first to give much trouble to the
government, filled every call made upon it for troops, without resorting to the
draft. There was no call made when there were not more volunteers than were
asked for. That congressional district stands credited at the War Department
to-day with furnishing more men for the army than it was called on to supply.

I remained in Springfield with my regiment until the 3d of July, when I was
ordered to Quincy, Illinois. By that time the regiment was in a good state of
discipline and the officers and men were well up in the company drill. There was
direct railroad communication between Springfield and Quincy, but I thought it
would be good preparation for the troops to march there. We had no
transportation for our camp and garrison equipage, so wagons were hired for the
occasion and on the 3d of July we started. There was no hurry, but fair marches
were made every day until the Illinois River was crossed. There I was overtaken
by a dispatch saying that the destination of the regiment had been changed to
Ironton, Missouri, and ordering me to halt where I was and await the arrival of
a steamer which had been dispatched up the Illinois River to take the regiment
to St. Louis. The boat, when it did come, grounded on a sand-bar a few miles
below where we were in camp. We remained there several days waiting to have the
boat get off the bar, but before this occurred news came that an Illinois
regiment was surrounded by rebels at a point on the Hannibal and St. Joe
Railroad some miles west of Palmyra, in Missouri, and I was ordered to proceed
with all dispatch to their relief. We took the cars and reached Quincy in a few
hours.

When I left Galena for the last time to take command of the 21st
regiment I took with me my oldest son, Frederick D. Grant, then a lad of eleven
years of age. On receiving the order to take rail for Quincy I wrote to Mrs.
Grant, to relieve what I supposed would be her great anxiety for one so young
going into danger, that I would send Fred home from Quincy by river. I received
a prompt letter in reply decidedly disapproving my proposition, and urging that
the lad should be allowed to accompany me. It came too late. Fred was already on
his way up the Mississippi bound for Dubuque, Iowa, from which place there was a
railroad to Galena.

My sensations as we approached what I supposed might be "a field of
battle" were anything but agreeable. I had been in all the engagements in
Mexico that it was possible for one person to be in; but not in command. If some
one else had been colonel and I had been lieutenant-colonel I do not think I
would have felt any trepidation. Before we were prepared to cross the
Mississippi River at Quincy my anxiety was relieved; for the men of the besieged
regiment came straggling into town. I am inclined to think both sides got
frightened and ran away.

I took my regiment to Palmyra and remained there for a few days, until
relieved by the 19th Illinois infantry. From Palmyra I proceeded to
Salt River, the railroad bridge over which had been destroyed by the enemy.
Colonel John M. Palmer at that time commanded the 13th Illinois,
which was acting as a guard to workmen who were engaged in rebuilding this
bridge. Palmer was my senior and commanded the two regiments as long as we
remained together. The bridge was finished in about two weeks, and I received
orders to move against Colonel Thomas Harris, who was said to be encamped at the
little town of Florida, some twenty-five miles south of where we then were.

At the time of which I now write we had no transportation and the country
about Salt River was sparsely settled, so that it took some days to collect
teams and drivers enough to move the camp and garrison equipage of a regiment
nearly a thousand strong, together with a week’s supply of provision and some
ammunition. While preparations for the move were going on I felt quite
comfortable; but when we got on the road and found every house deserted I was
anything but easy. In the twenty-five miles we had to march we did not see a
person, old or young, male or female, except two horsemen who were on a road
that crossed ours. As soon as they saw us they decamped as fast as their horses
could carry them. I kept my men in the ranks and forbade their entering any of
the deserted houses or taking anything from them. We halted at night on the road
and proceeded the next morning at an early hour. Harris had been encamped in a
creek bottom for the sake of being near water. The hills on either side of the
creek extend to a considerable height, possibly more than a hundred feet. As we
approached the brow of the hill from which it was expected we could see Harris’
camp, and possibly find his men ready formed to meet us, my heart kept getting
higher and higher until it felt to me as though it was in my throat. I would
have given anything then to have been back in Illinois, but I had not the moral
courage to halt and consider what to do; I kept right on. When we reached a
point from which the valley below was in full view I halted. The place where
Harris had been encamped a few days before was still there and the marks of a
recent encampment were plainly visible, but the troops were gone. My heart
resumed its place. It occurred to me at once that Harris had been as much afraid
of me as I had been of him. This was a view of the question I had never taken
before; but it was one I never forgot afterwards. From that event to the close
of the war, I never experienced trepidation upon confronting an enemy, though I
always felt more or less anxiety. I never forgot that he had as much reason to
fear my forces as I had his. The lesson was valuable.

Inquiries at the village of Florida divulged the fact that Colonel Harris,
learning of my intended movement, while my transportation was being collected
took time by the forelock and left Florida before I had started from Salt River.
He had increased the distance between us by forty miles. The next day I started
back to my old camp at Salt River bridge. The citizens living on the line of our
march had returned to their houses after we passed, and finding everything in
good order, nothing carried away, they were at their front doors ready to greet
us now. They had evidently been led to believe that the National troops carried
death and devastation with them wherever they went.

In a short time after our return to Salt River bridge I was ordered with my
regiment to the town of Mexico. General Pope was then commanding the district
embracing all of the State of Missouri between the Mississippi and Missouri
rivers, with his headquarters in the village of Mexico. I was assigned to the
command of a sub-district embracing the troops in the immediate neighborhood,
some three regiments of infantry and a section of artillery. There was one
regiment encamped by the side of mine. I assumed command of the whole and the
first night sent the commander of the other regiment the parole and countersign.
Not wishing to be outdone in courtesy, he immediately sent me the countersign
for his regiment for the night. When he was informed that the countersign sent
to him was for use with his regiment as well as mine, it was difficult to make
him understand that this was not an unwarranted interference of one colonel over
another. No doubt he attributed it for the time to the presumption of a graduate
of West Point over a volunteer pure and simple. But the question was soon
settled and we had no further trouble.

My arrival in Mexico had been preceded by that of two or three regiments in
which proper discipline had not been maintained, and the men had been in the
habit of visiting houses without invitation and helping themselves to food and
drink, or demanding them from the occupants. They carried their muskets while
out of camp and made every man they found take the oath of allegiance to the
government. I at once published orders prohibiting the soldiers from going into
private houses unless invited by the inhabitants, and from appropriating private
property to their own or to government uses. The people were no longer molested
or made afraid. I received the most marked courtesy from the citizens of Mexico
as long as I remained there.

Up to this time my regiment had not been carried in the school of the soldier
beyond the company drill, except that it had received some training on the march
from Springfield to the Illinois River. There was now a good opportunity of
exercising it in the battalion drill. While I was at West Point the tactics used
in the army had been Scott’s and the musket the flint lock. I had never looked
at a copy of tactics from the time of my graduation. My standing in that branch
of studies had been near the foot of the class. In the Mexican war in the summer
of 1846, I had been appointed regimental quartermaster and commissary and had
not been at a battalion drill since. The arms had been changed since then and
Hardee’s tactics had been adopted. I got a copy of tactics and studied one
lesson, intending to confine the exercise of the first day to the commands I had
thus learned. By pursuing this course from day to day I thought I would soon get
through the volume.

We were encamped just outside of town on the common, among scattering
suburban houses with enclosed gardens, and when I got my regiment in line and
rode to the front I soon saw that if I attempted to follow the lesson I had
studied I would have to clear away some of the houses and garden fences to make
room. I perceived at once, however, that Hardee’s tactics—a mere translation
from the French with Hardee’s name attached—was nothing more than common
sense and the progress of the age applied to Scott’s system. The commands were
abbreviated and the movement expedited. Under the old tactics almost every
change in the order of march was preceded by a "halt," then came the
change, and then the "forward march." With the new tactics all these
changes could be made while in motion. I found no trouble in giving commands
that would take my regiment where I wanted it to go and carry it around all
obstacles. I do not believe that the officers of the regiment ever discovered
that I had never studied the tactics that I used.

I had not been in Mexico many weeks when, reading a St. Louis paper, I found
the President had asked the Illinois delegation in Congress to recommend some
citizens of the State for the position of brigadier-general, and that they had
unanimously recommended me as first on a list of seven. I was very much
surprised because, as I have said, my acquaintance with the Congressmen was very
limited and I did not know of anything I had done to inspire such confidence.
The papers of the next day announced that my name, with three others, had been
sent to the Senate, and a few days after our confirmation was announced.

When appointed brigadier-general I at once thought it proper that one of my
aides should come from the regiment I had been commanding, and so selected
Lieutenant C. B. Lagow. While living in St. Louis, I had had a desk in the law
office of McClellan, Moody and Hillyer. Difference in views between the members
of the firm on the questions of the day, and general hard times in the border
cities, had broken up this firm. Hillyer was quite a young man, then in his
twenties, and very brilliant. I asked him to accept a place on my staff. I also
wanted to take one man from my new home, Galena. The canvass in the Presidential
campaign the fall before had brought out a young lawyer by the name of John A.
Rawlins, who proved himself one of the ablest speakers in the State. He was also
a candidate for elector on the Douglas ticket. When Sumter was fired upon and
the integrity of the Union threatened, there was no man more ready to serve his
country than he. I wrote at once asking him to accept the position of assistant
adjutant-general with the rank of captain, on my staff. He was about entering
the service as major of a new regiment then organizing in the north-western part
of the State; but he threw this up and accepted my offer.

Neither Hillyer nor Lagow proved to have any particular taste or special
qualifications for the duties of the soldier, and the former resigned during the
Vicksburg campaign; the latter I relieved after the battle of Chattanooga.
Rawlins remained with me as long as he lived, and rose to the rank of brigadier
general and chief-of-staff to the General of the Army—an office created for
him—before the war closed. He was an able man, possessed of great firmness,
and could say "no" so emphatically to a request which he thought
should not be granted that the person he was addressing would understand at once
that there was no use of pressing the matter. General Rawlins was a very useful
officer in other ways than this. I became very much attached to him.

Shortly after my promotion I was ordered to Ironton, Missouri, to command a
district in that part of the State, and took the 21st Illinois, my
old regiment, with me. Several other regiments were ordered to the same
destination about the same time. Ironton is on the Iron Mountain railroad, about
seventy miles south of St. Louis, and situated among hills rising almost to the
dignity of mountains. When I reached there, about the 8th of August,
Colonel B. Gratz Brown—afterwards Governor of Missouri and in 1872
Vice-Presidential candidate—was in command. Some of his troops were ninety
days’ men and their time had expired some time before. The men had no clothing
but what they had volunteered in, and much of this was so worn that it would
hardly stay on. General Hardee—the author of the tactics I did not study—was
at Greenville some twenty-five miles further south, it was said, with five
thousand Confederate troops. Under these circumstances Colonel Brown’s command
was very much demoralized. A squadron of cavalry could have ridden into the
valley and captured the entire force. Brown himself was gladder to see me on
that occasion than he ever has been since. I relieved him and sent all his men
home within a day or two, to be mustered out of service.

Within ten days after reading Ironton I was prepared to take the offensive
against the enemy at Greenville. I sent a column east out of the valley we were
in, with orders to swing around to the south and west and come into the
Greenville road ten miles south of Ironton. Another column marched on the direct
road and went into camp at the point designated for the two columns to meet. I
was to ride out the next morning and take personal command of the movement. My
experience against Harris, in northern Missouri, had inspired me with
confidence. But when the evening train came in, it brought General B. M.
Prentiss with orders to take command of the district. His orders did not relieve
me, but I knew that by law I was senior, and at that time even the President did
not have the authority to assign a junior to command a senior of the same grade.
I therefore gave General Prentiss the situation of the troops and the general
condition of affairs, and started for St. Louis the same day. The movement
against the rebels at Greenville went no further.

From St. Louis I was ordered to Jefferson City, the capital of the State, to
take command. General Sterling Price, of the Confederate army, was thought to be
threatening the capital, Lexington, Chillicothe and other comparatively large
towns in the central part of Missouri. I found a good many troops in Jefferson
City, but in the greatest confusion, and no one person knew where they all were.
Colonel Mulligan, a gallant man, was in command, but he had not been educated as
yet to his new profession and did not know how to maintain discipline. I found
that volunteers had obtained permission from the department commander, or
claimed they had, to raise, some of them, regiments; some battalions; some
companies—the officers to be commissioned according to the number of men they
brought into the service. There were recruiting stations all over town, with
notices, rudely lettered on boards over the doors, announcing the arm of service
and length of time for which recruits at that station would be received. The law
required all volunteers to serve for three years or the war. But in Jefferson
City in August, 1861, they were recruited for different periods and on different
conditions; some were enlisted for six months, some for a year, some without any
condition as to where they were to serve, others were not to be sent out of the
State. The recruits were principally men from regiments stationed there and
already in the service, bound for three years if the war lasted that long.

The city was filled with Union fugitives who had been driven by guerilla
bands to take refuge with the National troops. They were in a deplorable
condition and must have starved but for the support the government gave them.
They had generally made their escape with a team or two, sometimes a yoke of
oxen with a mule or a horse in the lead. A little bedding besides their clothing
and some food had been thrown into the wagon. All else of their worldly goods
were abandoned and appropriated by their former neighbors; for the Union man in
Missouri who staid at home during the rebellion, if he was not immediately under
the protection of the National troops, was at perpetual war with his neighbors.
I stopped the recruiting service, and disposed the troops about the outskirts of
the city so as to guard all approaches. Order was soon restored.

I had been at Jefferson City but a few days when I was directed from
department headquarters to fit out an expedition to Lexington, Booneville and
Chillicothe, in order to take from the banks in those cities all the funds they
had and send them to St. Louis. The western army had not yet been supplied with
transportation. It became necessary therefore to press into the service teams
belonging to sympathizers with the rebellion or to hire those of Union men. This
afforded an opportunity of giving employment to such of the refugees within our
lines as had teams suitable for our purposes. They accepted the service with
alacrity. As fast as troops could be got off they were moved west some twenty
miles or more. In seven or eight days from my assuming command at Jefferson
City, I had all the troops, except a small garrison, at an advanced position and
expected to join them myself the next day.

But my campaigns had not yet begun, for while seated at my office door, with
nothing further to do until it was time to start for the front, I saw an officer
of rank approaching, who proved to be Colonel Jefferson C. Davis. I had never
met him before, but he introduced himself by handing me an order for him to
proceed to Jefferson City and relieve me of the command. The orders directed
that I should report at department headquarters at St. Louis without delay, to
receive important special instructions. It was about an hour before the only
regular train of the day would start. I therefore turned over to Colonel Davis
my orders, and hurriedly stated to him the progress that had been made to carry
out the department instructions already described. I had at that time but one
staff officer, doing myself all the detail work usually performed by an
adjutant-general. In an hour after being relieved from the command I was on my
way to St. Louis, leaving my single staff officer to follow the next day
with our horses and baggage.

The "important special instructions" which I received the next day,
assigned me to the command of the district of south-east Missouri, embracing all
the territory south of St. Louis, in Missouri, as well as all southern Illinois.
At first I was to take personal command of a combined expedition that had been
ordered for the capture of Colonel Jeff. Thompson, a sort of independent or
partisan commander who was disputing with us the possession of south-east
Missouri. Troops had been ordered to move from Ironton to Cape Girardeau, sixty
or seventy miles to the south-east, on the Mississippi River; while the forces
at Cape Girardeau had been ordered to move to Jacksonville, ten miles out
towards Ironton; and troops at Cairo and Bird’s Point, at the junction of the
Ohio and Mississippi rivers, were to hold themselves in readiness to go down the
Mississippi to Belmont, eighteen miles below, to be moved west from there when
an officer should come to command them. I was the officer who had been selected
for this purpose. Cairo was to become my headquarters when the expedition
terminated.

In pursuance of my orders I established my temporary headquarters at Cape
Girardeau and sent instructions to the commanding officer at Jackson, to inform
me of the approach of General Prentiss from Ironton. Hired wagons were kept
moving night and day to take additional rations to Jackson, to supply the troops
when they started from there. Neither General Prentiss nor Colonel Marsh, who
commanded at Jackson, knew their destination. I drew up all the instructions for
the contemplated move, and kept them in my pocket until I should hear of the
junction of our troops at Jackson. Two or three days after my arrival at Cape
Girardeau, word came that General Prentiss was approaching that place (Jackson).
I started at once to meet him there and to give him his orders. As I turned the
first corner of a street after starting, I saw a column of cavalry passing the
next street in front of me. I turned and rode around the block the other way, so
as to meet the head of the column. I found there General Prentiss himself, with
a large escort. He had halted his troops at Jackson for the night, and had come
on himself to Cape Girardeau, leaving orders for his command to follow him in
the morning. I gave the General his orders—which stopped him at Jackson—but
he was very much aggrieved at being placed under another brigadier-general,
particularly as he believed himself to be the senior. He had been a brigadier,
in command at Cairo, while I was mustering officer at Springfield without any
rank. But we were nominated at the same time for the United States service, and
both our commissions bore date May 17th, 1861. By virtue of my former
army rank I was, by law, the senior. General Prentiss failed to get orders to
his troops to remain at Jackson, and the next morning early they were reported
as approaching Cape Girardeau. I then ordered the General very peremptorily to
countermarch his command and take it back to Jackson. He obeyed the order, but
bade his command adieu when he got them to Jackson, and went to St. Louis and
reported himself. This broke up the expedition. But little harm was done, as
Jeff. Thompson moved light and had no fixed place for even nominal headquarters.
He was as much at home in Arkansas as he was in Missouri and would keep out of
the way of a superior force. Prentiss was sent to another part of the State.

General Prentiss made a great mistake on the above occasion, one that he
would not have committed later in the war. When I came to know him better, I
regretted it much. In consequence of this occurrence he was off duty in the
field when the principal campaign at the West was going on, and his juniors
received promotion while he was where none could be obtained. He would have been
next to myself in rank in the district of south-east Missouri, by virtue of his
services in the Mexican war. He was a brave and very earnest soldier. No man in
the service was more sincere in his devotion to the cause for which we were
battling; none more ready to make sacrifices or risk life in it.

On the 4th of September I removed my headquarters to Cairo and
found Colonel Richard Oglesby in command of the post. We had never met, at least
not to my knowledge. After my promotion I had ordered my brigadier-general’s
uniform from New York, but it had not yet arrived, so that I was in citizen’s
dress. The Colonel had his office full of people, mostly from the neighboring
States of Missouri and Kentucky, making complaints or asking favors. He
evidently did not catch my name when I was presented, for on my taking a piece
of paper from the table where he was seated and writing the order assuming
command of the district of south-east Missouri, Colonel Richard J. Oglesby to
command the post at Bird’s Point, and handing it to him, he put on an
expression of surprise that looked a little as if he would like to have some one
identify me. But he surrendered the office without question.

The day after I assumed command at Cairo a man came to me who said he was a
scout of General Fremont. He reported that he had just come from Columbus, a
point on the Mississippi twenty miles below on the Kentucky side, and that
troops had started from there, or were about to start, to seize Paducah, at the
mouth of the Tennessee. There was no time for delay; I reported by telegraph to
the department commander the information I had received, and added that I was
taking steps to get off that night to be in advance of the enemy in securing
that important point. There was a large number of steamers lying at Cairo and a
good many boatmen were staying in the town. It was the work of only a few hours
to get the boats manned, with coal aboard and steam up. Troops were also
designated to go aboard. The distance from Cairo to Paducah is about forty-five
miles. I did not wish to get there before daylight of the 6th, and
directed therefore that the boats should lie at anchor out in the stream until
the time to start. Not having received an answer to my first dispatch, I again
telegraphed to department headquarters that I should start for Paducah that
night unless I received further orders. Hearing nothing, we started before
midnight and arrived early the following morning, anticipating the enemy by
probably not over six or eight hours. It proved very fortunate that the
expedition against Jeff. Thompson had been broken up. Had it not been, the enemy
would have seized Paducah and fortified it, to our very great annoyance.

When the National troops entered the town the citizens were taken by
surprise. I never after saw such consternation depicted on the faces of the
people. Men, women and children came out of their doors looking pale and
frightened at the presence of the invader. They were expecting rebel troops that
day. In fact, nearly four thousand men from Columbus were at that time within
ten or fifteen miles of Paducah on their way to occupy the place. I had but two
regiments and one battery with me, but the enemy did not know this and returned
to Columbus. I stationed my troops at the best points to guard the roads leading
into the city, left gunboats to guard the river fronts and by noon was ready to
start on my return to Cairo. Before leaving, however, I addressed a short
printed proclamation to the citizens of Paducah assuring them of our peaceful
intentions, that we had come among them to protect them against the enemies of
our country, and that all who chose could continue their usual avocations with
assurance of the protection of the government. This was evidently a relief to
them; but the majority would have much preferred the presence of the other army.
I reinforced Paducah rapidly from the troops at Cape Girardeau; and a day or two
later General C. F. Smith, a most accomplished soldier, reported at Cairo and
was assigned to the command of the post at the mouth of the Tennessee. In a
short time it was well fortified and a detachment was sent to occupy Smithland,
at the mouth of the Cumberland.

The State government of Kentucky at that time was rebel in sentiment, but
wanted to preserve an armed neutrality between the North and the South, and the
governor really seemed to think the State had a perfect right to maintain a
neutral position. The rebels already occupied two towns in the State, Columbus
and Hickman, on the Mississippi; and at the very moment the National troops were
entering Paducah from the Ohio front, General Lloyd Tilghman—a Confederate—with
his staff and a small detachment of men, were getting out in the other
direction, while, as I have already said, nearly four thousand Confederate
troops were on Kentucky soil on their way to take possession of the town. But,
in the estimation of the governor and of those who thought with him, this did
not justify the National authorities in invading the soil of Kentucky. I
informed the legislature of the State of what I was doing, and my action was
approved by the majority of that body. On my return to Cairo I found authority
from department headquarters for me to take Paducah "if I felt strong
enough," but very soon after I was reprimanded from the same quarters for
my correspondence with the legislature and warned against a repetition of the
offence.

Soon after I took command at Cairo, General Fremont entered into arrangements
for the exchange of the prisoners captured at Camp Jackson in the month of May.
I received orders to pass them through my lines to Columbus as they presented
themselves with proper credentials. Quite a number of these prisoners I had been
personally acquainted with before the war. Such of them as I had so known were
received at my headquarters as old acquaintances, and ordinary routine business
was not disturbed by their presence. On one occasion when several were present
in my office my intention to visit Cape Girardeau the next day, to inspect the
troops at that point, was mentioned. Something transpired which postponed my
trip; but a steamer employed by the government was passing a point some twenty
or more miles above Cairo, the next day, when a section of rebel artillery with
proper escort brought her to. A major, one of those who had been at my
headquarters the day before, came at once aboard and after some search made a
direct demand for my delivery. It was hard to persuade him that I was not there.
This officer was Major Barrett, of St. Louis [Barrett was a Minute Man; see
Thomas Snead’s piece elsewhere on this site for more on the Minute Men –ed].
I had been acquainted with his family before the war.

CHAPTER XX.

GENERAL FREMONT IN COMMAND—MOVEMENT
AGAINST BELMONT—BATTLE OF BELMONT—A NARROW ESCAPE—AFTER THE BATTLE.

From the occupation of Paducah up to the early part of November nothing
important occurred with the troops under my command. I was reinforced from time
to time and the men were drilled and disciplined preparatory for the service
which was sure to come. By the 1st of November I had not fewer than
20,000 men, most of them under good drill and ready to meet any equal body of
men who, like themselves, had not yet been in an engagement. They were growing
impatient at lying idle so long, almost in hearing of the guns of the enemy they
had volunteered to fight against. I asked on one or two occasions to be allowed
to move against Columbus. It could have been taken soon after the occupation of
Paducah; but before November it was so strongly fortified that it would have
required a large force and a long siege to capture it.

In the latter part of October General Fremont took the field in person and
moved from Jefferson City against General Sterling Price, who was then in the
State of Missouri with a considerable command. About the first of November I was
directed from department headquarters to make a demonstration on both sides of
the Mississippi River with the view of detaining the rebels at Columbus within
their lines. Before my troops could be got off, I was notified from the same
quarter that there were some 3,000 of the enemy on the St. Francis River about
fifty miles west, or south-west, from Cairo, and was ordered to send another
force against them. I dispatched Colonel Oglesby at once with troops sufficient
to compete with the reported number of the enemy. On the 5th word
came from the same source that the rebels were about to detach a large force
from Columbus to be moved by boats down the Mississippi and up the White River,
in Arkansas, in order to reinforce Price, and I was directed to prevent this
movement if possible. I accordingly sent a regiment from Bird’s Point under
Colonel W. H. L. Wallace to overtake and reinforce Oglesby, with orders to march
to New Madrid, a point some distance below Columbus, on the Missouri side. At
the same time I directed General C. F. Smith to move all the troops he could
spare from Paducah directly against Columbus, halting them, however, a few miles
from the town to await further orders from me. Then I gathered up all the troops
at Cairo and Fort Holt, except suitable guards, and moved them down the river on
steamers convoyed by two gunboats, accompanying them myself. My force consisted
of a little over 3,000 men and embraced five regiments of infantry, two guns and
two companies of cavalry. We dropped down the river on the 6th to
within about six miles of Columbus, debarked a few men on the Kentucky side and
established pickets to connect with the troops from Paducah.

I had no orders which contemplated an attack by the National troops, nor did
I intend anything of the kind when I started out from Cairo; but after we
started I saw that the officers and men were elated at the prospect of at last
having the opportunity of doing what they had volunteered to do—fight the
enemies of their country. I did not see how I could maintain discipline, or
retain the confidence of my command, if we should return to Cairo without an
effort to do something. Columbus, besides being strongly fortified, contained a
garrison much more numerous than the force I had with me. It would not do,
therefore, to attack that point. About two o’clock on the morning of the 7th,
I learned that the enemy was crossing troops from Columbus to the west bank to
be dispatched, presumably, after Oglesby. I knew there was a small camp of
Confederates at Belmont, immediately opposite Columbus, and I speedily resolved
to push down the river, land on the Missouri side, capture Belmont, break up the
camp and return. Accordingly, the pickets above Columbus were drawn in at once,
and about daylight the boats moved out from shore. In an hour we were debarking
on the west bank of the Mississippi, just out of range of the batteries at
Columbus.

The ground on the west shore of the river, opposite Columbus, is low and in
places marshy and cut up with sloughs. The soil is rich and the timber large and
heavy. There were some small clearings between Belmont and the point where we
landed, but most of the country was covered with the native forests. We landed
in front of a cornfield. When the debarkation commenced, I took a regiment down
the river to post it as a guard against surprise. At that time I had no staff
officer who could be trusted with that duty. In the woods, at a short distance
below the clearing, I found a depression, dry at the time, but which at high
water became a slough or bayou. I placed the men in the hollow, gave them their
instructions and ordered them to remain there until they were properly relieved.
These troops, with the gunboats, were to protect our transports.

Up to this time the enemy had evidently failed to divine our intentions. From
Columbus they could, of course, see our gunboats and transports loaded with
troops. But the force from Paducah was threatening them from the land side, and
it was hardly to be expected that if Columbus was our object we would separate
our troops by a wide river. They doubtless thought we meant to draw a large
force from the east bank, then embark ourselves, land on the east bank and make
a sudden assault on Columbus before their divided command could be united.

About eight o’clock we started from the point of debarkation, marching by
the flank. After moving in this way for a mile or a mile and a half, I halted
where there was marshy ground covered with a heavy growth of timber in our
front, and deployed a large part of my force as skirmishers. By this time the
enemy discovered that we were moving upon Belmont and sent out troops to meet
us. Soon after we had started in line, his skirmishers were encountered and
fighting commenced. This continued, growing fiercer and fiercer, for about four
hours, the enemy being forced back gradually until he was driven into his camp.
Early in this engagement my horse was shot under me, but I got another from one
of my staff and kept well up with the advance until the river was reached.

The officers and men engaged at Belmont were then under fire for the first
time. Veterans could not have behaved better than they did up to the moment of
reaching the rebel camp. At this point they became demoralized from their
victory and failed to reap its full reward. The enemy had been followed so
closely that when he reached the clear ground on which his camp was pitched he
beat a hasty retreat over the river bank, which protected him from our shots and
from view. This precipitate retreat at the last moment enabled the National
forces to pick their way without hindrance through the abatis—the only
artificial defence the enemy had. The moment the camp was reached our men laid
down their arms and commenced rummaging the tents to pick up trophies. Some of
the higher officers were little better than the privates. They galloped about
from one cluster of men to another and at every halt delivered a short eulogy
upon the Union cause and the achievements of the command.

All this time the troops we had been engaged with for four hours, lay
crouched under cover of the river bank, ready to come up and surrender if
summoned to do so; but finding that they were not pursued, they worked their way
up the river and came up on the bank between us and our transports. I saw at the
same time two steamers coming from the Columbus side towards the west shore,
above us, black—or gray—with soldiers from boiler-deck to roof. Some of my
men were engaged in firing from captured guns at empty steamers down the river,
out of range, cheering at every shot. I tried to get them to turn their guns
upon the loaded steamers above and not so far away. My efforts were in vain. At
last I directed my staff officers to set fire to the camps. This drew the fire
of the enemy’s guns located on the heights of Columbus. They had abstained
from firing before, probably because they were afraid of hitting their own men;
or they may have supposed, until the camp was on fire, that it was still in the
possession of their friends. About this time, too, the men we had driven over
the bank were seen in line up the river between us and our transports. The alarm
"surrounded" was given. The guns of the enemy and the report of being
surrounded, brought officers and men completely under control. At first some of
the officers seemed to think that to be surrounded was to be placed in a
hopeless position, where there was nothing to do but surrender. But when I
announced that we had cut our way in and could cut our way out just as well, it
seemed a new revelation to officers and soldiers. They formed line rapidly and
we started back to our boats, with the men deployed as skirmishers as they had
been on entering camp. The enemy was soon encountered, but his resistance this
time was feeble. Again the Confederates sought shelter under the river banks. We
could not stop, however, to pick them up, because the troops we had seen
crossing the river had debarked by this time and were nearer our transports than
we were. It would be prudent to get them behind us; but we were not again
molested on our way to the boats.

From the beginning of the fighting our wounded had been carried to the houses
at the rear, near the place of debarkation. I now set the troops to bringing
their wounded to the boats. After this had gone on for some little time I rode
down the road, without even a staff officer, to visit the guard I had stationed
over the approach to our transports. I knew the enemy had crossed over from
Columbus in considerable numbers and might be expected to attack us as we were
embarking. This guard would be encountered first and, as they were in a natural
intrenchment, would be able to hold the enemy for a considerable time. My
surprise was great to find there was not a single man in the trench. Riding back
to the boat I found the officer who had commanded the guard and learned that he
had withdrawn his force when the main body fell back. At first I ordered the
guard to return, but finding that it would take some time to get the men
together and march them back to their position, I countermanded the order. Then
fearing that the enemy we had seen crossing the river below might be coming upon
us unawares, I rode out in the field to our front, still entirely alone, to
observe whether the enemy was passing. The field was grown up with corn so tall
and thick as to cut off the view of even a person on horseback, except directly
along the rows. Even in that direction, owing to the overhanging blades of corn,
the view was not extensive. I had not gone more than a few hundred yards when I
saw a body of troops marching past me not fifty yards away. I looked at them for
a moment and then turned my horse towards the river and started back, first in a
walk, and when I thought myself concealed from the view of the enemy, as fast as
my horse could carry me. When at the river bank I still had to ride a few
hundred yards to the point where the nearest transport lay.

The cornfield in front of our transports terminated at the edge of a dense
forest. Before I got back the enemy had entered this forest and had opened a
brisk fire upon the boats. Our men, with the exception of details that had gone
to the front after the wounded, were now either aboard the transports or very
near them. Those who were not aboard soon got there, and the boats pushed off. I
was the only man of the National army between the rebels and our transports. The
captain of a boat that had just pushed out but had not started, recognized me
and ordered the engineer not to start the engine; he then had a plank run out
for me. My horse seemed to take in the situation. There was no path down the
bank and every one acquainted with the Mississippi River knows that its banks,
in a natural state, do not vary at any great angle from the perpendicular. My
horse put his fore feet over the bank without hesitation or urging, and with his
hind feet well under him, slid down the bank and trotted aboard the boat, twelve
or fifteen feet away, over a single gang plank. I dismounted and went at once to
the upper deck.

The Mississippi River was low on the 7th of November, 1861, so
that the banks were higher than the heads of men standing on the upper decks of
the steamers. The rebels were some distance back from the river, so that their
fire was high and did us but little harm. Our smokestack was riddled with
bullets, but there were only three men wounded on the boats, two of whom were
soldiers. When I first went on deck I entered the captain’s room adjoining the
pilothouse, and threw myself on a sofa. I did not keep that position a moment,
but rose to go out on the deck to observe what was going on. I had scarcely left
when a musket ball entered the room, struck the head of the sofa, passed through
it and lodged in the foot.

When the enemy opened fire on the transports our gunboats returned it with
vigor. They were well out in the stream and some distance down, so that they had
to give but very little elevation to their guns to clear the banks of the river.
Their position very nearly enfiladed the line of the enemy while he was marching
through the cornfield. The execution was very great, as we could see at the time
and as I afterwards learned more positively. We were very soon out of range and
went peacefully on our way to Cairo, every man feeling that Belmont was a great
victory and that he had contributed his share to it.

Our loss at Belmont was 485 in killed, wounded and missing. About 125 of our
wounded fell into the hands of the enemy. We returned with 175 prisoners and two
guns, and spiked four other pieces. The loss of the enemy, as officially
reported, was 642 men, killed, wounded and missing. We had engaged about 2,500
men, exclusive of the guard left with the transports. The enemy had about 7,000;
but this includes the troops brought over from Columbus who were not engaged in
the first defense of Belmont.

The two objects for which the battle of Belmont was fought were fully
accomplished. The enemy gave up all idea of detaching troops from Columbus. His
losses were very heavy for that period of the war. Columbus was beset by people
looking for their wounded or dead kin, to take them home for medical treatment
or burial. I learned later, when I had moved further south, that Belmont had
caused more mourning than almost any other battle up to that time. The National
troops acquired a confidence in themselves at Belmont that did not desert them
through the war.

The day after the battle I met some officers from General Polk’s command,
arranged for permission to bury our dead at Belmont and also commenced
negotiations for the exchange of prisoners. When our men went to bury their
dead, before they were allowed to land they were conducted below the point where
the enemy had engaged our transports. Some of the officers expressed a desire to
see the field; but the request was refused with the statement that we had no
dead there.

While on the truce-boat I mentioned to an officer, whom I had known both at
West Point and in the Mexican war, that I was in the cornfield near their troops
when they passed; that I had been on horseback and had worn a soldier’s
overcoat at the time. This officer was on General Polk’s staff. He said both
he and the general had seen me and that Polk had said to his men, "There is
a Yankee; you may try your marksmanship on him if you wish," but nobody
fired at me.

Belmont was severely criticized in the North as a wholly unnecessary battle,
barren of results, or the possibility of them from the beginning. If it had not
been fought, Colonel Oglesby would probably have been captured or destroyed with
his three thousand men. Then I should have been culpable indeed.